


twist the plot dramatically (again)

by FixerRefutation



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Despair, Alternate Universe - Yakuza, Detective Agency, Fluff, GOD IS THIS CRACK LOL, Gen, M/M, Mafia AU, Secret Santa, also detective shuichi, kokichi ace detective, rantaro ultimate wingman, yakuza is mafia right sure why not, yknow what the whole of ndrv3 cast? detectives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 08:21:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17117825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FixerRefutation/pseuds/FixerRefutation
Summary: Kokichi takes a risk; Shuichi makes a mistake.





	twist the plot dramatically (again)

**Author's Note:**

> hello! ss for jjmoonheartwisdom! 
> 
> i hope  
> you  
> enjoy  
> pleas e

Kokichi bit into the top of his pen, the stale taste of metal and the cold from the air tasting like the labors of a miserable detective such as himself, with nothing to do except file reports on lost dogs, or petty thefts. And  _ just when he manages to get his hands on a proper case,  _ like a kidnapping or murder or some super secret information exchange back in the darkest parts in the web and in a maze of alleys, maybe even some world domination plots to uncover-  _ point was,  _ Kokichi was desperate. Desperate for something new, desperate for life like the ones found in books. 

Hell, he was even considered one of the best detectives out there (if you left out his lying habits that usually led a suspected or someone entirely different to confess in a record time), and he still wouldn’t be able to get another stinkin’ case like the one that forced him to come out from the shadows, with all the other detectives (besides Sherlock, of course), and..well, one other thing.

He set down the bothersome reports and peered out the door of his office, grinning a childish grin Sherlock certainly would  _ never dream  _ of making, pulling a few petty pranks here and there- drawing an angry face on Momota’s favorite mug, taping note sheets all over the grand piano that rested at the very end of the hallway (which Akamatsu blackmailed and bribed and did very shady things to make it happen), and his favorite? Spinning around the offices and down the hallways yelling at the top of his lungs.

 

Of course, that was, if a certain someone wasn’t around for him to annoy. 

 

“..Amami-chaaaaan-!” The purple-haired imp launched himself from his chair to flying-tackle the adventurer who had just entered, and Kokichi was caught easily, with a carefree smile and a gentle set-down. Amami had gotten far too used to Ouma’s wild antics to be caught off-guard. Truly saddening.

“Hi, Ouma-kun. How are you?” Kokichi grinned, sticking his arms behind his head for emphasis on happiness, and he replied with, “Not so good anymore! My murder plot for Amami-chan failed..! This won’t be forgotten, y’know- I’ll get my revenge!”

Amami laughed, all genteel and stuff. Ouma tilted his head to hear the laughter as clearly as possible. “I’m sure you will, Ouma-kun.’ Hands, soft like a model’s, ruffled his hair before leaving Ouma’s stylishly messy hair into a vaguely less stylish messy hairstyle- because he looked good in  _ anything. _

No, it was not a lie. This time.

Shuichi opened the door, just after Amami. He looked around like an adorably startled deer, hair swept to the side from the wind, a far cry from his usual girlish hairstyle, the tips curling up, strands framing his face. With a tan-coloured trench coat and a turtleneck, his eyes almost glowing from the dimmed lights of the morning- when the power was just starting up- he leaned back on the door with a pretty sigh of relief, then nearly fell through as the door- explicitly labelled with an obvious PUSH- and Kokichi had to just barely stifle a snicker as the detective landed on his butt, in the snow. Just when he’d gotten out, too.

Shuichi’s head swiveled to the snickering grape boy, face flushed even without the help of the cold, and he flushed unceremoniously.  _ “Stop that, Ouma-kun.”  _

Caught, Kokichi keeled over, laughing. “That’s-that’s something I’d expect  _ Momota-chan  _ to do, Saihara-chan,” He informed the navy-haired detective, half seriously, half not-serious-and-totally-just-ridiculing-you-for-the-fun-of-it.

Shuichi brushed himself off, closing his eyes in irritation. He looked over the stacks, took a few, and walked off in an almost hurry. Kokichi stopped laughing, and opted to follow the ahoge at the top of the detective’s head, literally the only thing that helped him find the detective at malls for ‘chance encounters.’ 

And yes, Kokichi did those. A lot. Every time. Just to fuck with Shuichi. Because he had to, and it was funny. 

 

He had a valid reason!

 

Shuichi was always so jumpy, too.. It was great.

 

A scent of vanilla followed the detective as closely as Kokichi did. 

 

Until, of course, Shuichi patrol came around, and Harukawa Maki, who took all the good murder files and was a total fun-ruiner, dragged him by his scarf back to his office like a prisoner. No matter how many times he wiggled or squirmed or kicked, all he got was a faster road to his office. It really was no fair!

“Makirollllllll-ll, stoooop--” he whined as he was dragged through piles of paper, the thick wool of his own sweater protecting him from papercuts, which was probably a plus compared to what usually happened when he was near Maki. Said person hissed, pulling him through the firm roughly, “Don’t call me that or I swear no one will find your body.” The threat didn’t seem empty, but he buried his face in the neck of his sweater and  _ nishishi’d  _ his way out of answering anyway. She kicked open the door and tossed him inside, slamming it closed and looking at him suspiciously from the tiny window frame that looked out the hallway. 

 

_ Don’t. Cause. Trouble,  _ her glare said. 

 

_ Can’t. Stop. Me,  _ his grin replied.

 

And with that, he was left back to his normal, boring routine.

 

-

 

Shuichi opened the door to see Kokichi spinning in circles on the standard swivel chair that everyone had in their own offices. The chair squeaked from overuse, and Shuichi felt almost sorry for it- though the feeling didn’t last for long. Kokichi spun one last time, than turned to him like Shuichi was the apple of his eye. “Shuuuuumai! Whaddya got for me this time? A missing dog? A _cat stuck in a tree?_ _Purrrrfect_ job for an ace detective like me, right, Saihara-chaan?” He struck a vaguely anime pose. “Do you think I can finally star in that one game? Ace detective?” 

Shuichi wanted to cry. “Its, ah..” His voice trailed off, remembering all the times he disturbed the neighboring apartments for, ‘screaming like a girl getting tortured’, and brushed his long bangs over his eyes in avoidance of Ouma’s own, looking up at him. “It’s Ace attorney, actually.” 

Kokichi paused, and  _ nishishi’d  _ as he replied, grin quirking his lips up. “Well, detectives are basically the same, right? Potato po-tah-to. The only difference is that attorneys go to hell!” Shuichi, not planning to say any more and get any attorneys pissed, set down the files and exited out the door. 

Kokichi readjusted his position, resting his legs on one side of the chair and resting his upper body on the other. “Pet cats..pet dogs...pet rocks...stolen butter..named mondo? Huh..” He stopped at one file in particular. A plain, peachy-colored file, not much to it besides the large, stamped ‘IMPORTANT’ on it. “Yes, because that’s totally inconspicuous and not curious at all.. How’d this get in my files anyway? Makiroll childproofed it like, fifteen times already..” 

_ Case assigned to: Saihara Shuichi _

_ On basis of: request _

 

Kokichi huffed. “They never send  _ my  _ requests back to me..”

_   
_ [TRANSCRIPT OF E-MAIL]

 

_ Station 801, 7:00pm 12/24/XX. _

. . .

 

Kokichi could barely contain his excitement. 

 

Kokichi lock picked and dashed his way through the station easily, almost too easily. The people, shouting angrily in several different languages, soon shut up with a good elbow to the gut, and he didn’t dare look back. “Exxxcusse me-! Making my way through-!”

All too quickly, a hand, rough and hard, grasped his own, pulling him from the crowd to somewhere- somewhere quiet? A brown paper bag pulled over his head, he was shouldered through, hand clamped on his mouth. Wouldn’t somebody notice something this obvious? Why?  _ How? _ THIS WAS SUCH AN OBVIOUS KIDNAPPING WHY HADN’T ANYONE NOTICED.

 

-

 

Shuichi held a mask before him, regal and almost elegant in its making, the porcelain unmarred and unscratched. His heart beat fast, and he itched to take Kokichi- when he came here, of course- into his arms as soon as possible, and maybe-  _ just maybe? _ \- they could be..well, he buried his face in his arms and tried his best not to squeal. He was doing it..! 

..Yes, true, he was using his mafia members to cheer him and his weak ego on to just confess.. And yes, he forged a few documents..and  _ yes _ , he was making his group practically kidnap Kokichi and force him here… but still! There was no better time to confess other than on Christmas! Or was it valentine’s day..? 

 

..crap, he was getting nervous again. 

 

  
He stuck the mask on, and promptly forgot about it.

 

-

  
Kokichi landed with a harsh thump on the floor. A voice, familiar in a way, but more..confident? More self assured, more like- fell down on him and pulled over him like a slowly winding lullaby. “Hello..Ouma Kokichi, was it?” Melodic, not quite like a boy’s but definitely not a girl’s either reached his ears, like a song on Akamatsu’s most expensive piano. 

 

Steps.

 

Kokichi’s heart pounded- out of excitement? Fear? 

His head, still covered by the brown paper bag, was lifted, a person with the faintest scent of vanilla in his field of vision. “Hi,” the person said.

“Hi,” he breathed back.

The.. who was this? The person looked embarrassed, eyes flitting to and fro nervously, tapping against his thigh reflexively. Cheeks lit up in blush.

“So.. gonna tell me anytime soon or am I gonna have to guess?”

“Wait!” The person choked out. “Wait- um, well, you see, I’m the.. um, the.. leader, of this ..unit..” 

“Act like it too, huh? Must get all the soldiers to obey you instantly, hmm?” 

 

“I-I!”

 

Kokichi waited. The person looked around nervously, waving his bodyguards out of the room. This was his chance, wasn’t it? Right? Just need to rock back and forth, gather energy to jump and run the hell out of this shady-ass place-   
  
Kokichi leaned forward just as Shuichi wrapped his arms around him. “What the-” the purple-haired detective stuttered. “Hey, get off me stupid, I’m not a pillo-” Kokichi flushed wildly after the kiss. It was an unprecedented, unexpected, insanely wild, terrifyingly sweet, chaste kiss, like he’d seen lovers in cafes do. It was. He.  _ Words.  _

 

The bear hug didn’t let up. This was… mildly uncomfortable, but. 

 

_ Warm.  _

 

He missed that. But he..! He had things to get to! Yes, like lost dogs! And kittens! And..and..! 

 

He choked on the sweet scent of vanilla. A whisper next to his ear, and with that a face to the person who stole literally his first kiss. Only...it was covered by a half mask. Of course. Hair was covered by a hood, too, so. Brilliant. So great.    
  


Loved getting his first kiss stolen by handsome, young mafia leaders. Amazing. 

 

Yeah, he broke out of the rope pretty easily. It wasn’t even tied tightly on. And yes, he did scream bloody murder as he booked it. It was instinct. He was  _ never, ever  _ doing any more cases like that. Ever again. Bad idea.

 

Those lips were pretty soft.

 

NO.

 

-

 

Shuichi practically dashed through the doors as he gasped, “I’m sorry i’m late-!” With the remaining vestiges of his breath. The only one there was Kokichi, like usual, but the purple-haired detective was seemingly lost in thought. Shuichi blushed and looked away, covering his mouth with his hand for a moment before looking back at Kokichi. 

 

“...Ouma-kun?”   
  


“Yes?” The boy replied distractedly, twiddling with a pencil. 

 

“Are you..?”   
  
“..mm?”   


“Well, I mean..” Wait. He thought he confessed last night. But if he did.. Wouldn’t Kokichi be littering him with hugs and kisses and the like? Why would he be so distracted? Was he..rejected? 

 

Shuichi spent the rest of the day in a slump.

 

-

 

Amami sat down next to Ouma.    
  


“So, who do you like this time.”   
  
“...The up-and-coming mafia leader.”

 

“Haha, very funny. Seriously, you can trust me; I’m as inconspicuous as they can get.”   
  


“...”

 

“Wait are you serious.”

 

“.....”

 

“OH MY GOD. YOU DON’T JUST. FALL IN LOVE WITH  _ MAFIA LEADERS, KOKICHI.” _

 

_ “I DIDN’T KISS HIM, HE KISSED  _ ME!”

  
“FAT CHANCE IN  _ HELL.” _

 

-

 

Rantarou pulled out his phone. 

 

**Boss:** so???? What’d h e say please tell me 

**Weedman:** well good news he likes you

**Boss:** ..what’s the. Bad news

**Weedman:** you’re your own opponent

**Boss:** **_wh a t_ **

**Author's Note:**

> Case assigned to: Saihara Shuichi
> 
> On basis of: request
> 
>  
> 
> Kokichi huffed. “They never send my requests back to me..”
> 
> context: Kokichi's requests:
> 
> _Preferred Assignment:  
>  Answer: **the good shit**_


End file.
